


No Mas

by SuburbanSun



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Breaking bad - Freeform, F/M, Pre-Series, Television Watching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-15
Updated: 2015-05-15
Packaged: 2018-03-30 14:56:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3941065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuburbanSun/pseuds/SuburbanSun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s science, bitch. In their last few weeks before facing an unknown future on Agent Coulson’s team, Fitz and Simmons develop a new addiction: Breaking Bad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Mas

**Author's Note:**

> After Fitz's "Science, biatch!" line in the finale, I couldn't get this one out of my head. Bonus: the timeline of this totally holds up (if you assume airdates and the dates episodes take place are one and the same)-- the finale of Breaking Bad aired five days after the premiere of Agents of SHIELD, and the Mythbusters Breaking Bad special really did air on August 12. 
> 
> I would have written this even if it hadn't, of course; I was just amused it worked out so well.
> 
> In any case: no serious Breaking Bad spoilers lie below.

_August 13, 2013_

“Ugh, Fitz, this show is disgusting.” Jemma tucked her legs up on the couch and grimaced at the TV screen. “And I’m not sure why you’re so eager to watch it, given that Mythbusters already poked holes in the science behind it last night.”

“I know, but it’s my turn to pick the show we watch.” He leaned forward, keeping his eyes trained on Walter White. “Besides, if we only watched shows with a completely accurate basis in science--”

“--we’d have to throw out the TV, I know.” Fitz flicked his eyes to her. She looked uncomfortable, but not as uncomfortable as the time he’d convinced her to sit through all six _Saw_ movies in one weekend. She could stick it out for one measly _Breaking Bad_ marathon. “Shh, this is the good part.”

“You haven’t seen this before!”

He rolled his eyes and nudged her shin where it rested next to his thigh. “I’m guessing!” She responded by tucking her feet underneath him-- always cold, that woman-- and crossing her arms, but settling back against the couch to watch.

  


The next day, Fitz stumbled out of his bedroom in their shared apartment to find Jemma tapping her foot at the kitchen table. She’d set out a bowl of cereal for him, and as he slipped into his seat to eat it, she gave him an exasperated look. “Took you long enough to get up.”

“It’s 7,” he said around a mouthful of cereal. “And we were up ‘til 3 a.m. last night watching.”

“Obviously I know that. I just thought perhaps today we could call out sick? We’ve scarcely used any of our personal time, and I’m not sure that it will carry over once we’re on the mobile team.”

Fitz chewed. “The mobile team” had been a sore subject between them for weeks-- first because he refused to hear any suggestion of joining it, then because he’d given in and still felt uneasy about it. He swallowed and cleared his throat. “Are you feeling ill?”

That exasperated look was back, and really, if she was planning to roll her eyes at him all day, perhaps he didn’t want to take a personal day with her.

“Of course not, Fitz, don’t be ridiculous.”

“You were the one who suggested we take a sick day--”

“--do you realize how many episodes we can get through if we don’t go into the lab today?”

He let that sink in. Jemma Simmons, who loved homework so much that she’d begun to bring her SciTech projects home with her (until he’d put his foot down, that is-- bacterial cell cultures had _no_ place in the butter tray of their refrigerator), wanted to skive off work for a _TV show_?

She _must_ be hooked.

Fitz stood up and set his now-empty cereal bowl in the sink-- then, off Jemma’s pointed stare, in the dishwasher. He leaned back against the kitchen counter, rolled his head back and forth to crack his neck, and considered her suggestion. “What if I said I had to go in today? Would you stay behind and watch ahead without me?” It was a test, more than anything. He’d already decided he felt just fine about skipping work for one day.

Jemma tapped her fingers against the kitchen table nervously. She let out a little giggle, and looked at the cabinet next to his head. “Of course not! I would never.”

He hoped she’d never need to use her lying skills on the mobile team, because they were as deplorable as ever. He shook his head at her. “You would. I can see it in your eyes. You’d let me waste away in the lab while you lazed about here all day with Walt and Jesse.”

She widened her eyes. “I would not!”

“Liar.”

Jemma stood up to face him, looking stricken at his accusation. “I wouldn’t! Fitz, I swear on Peggy Carter!” She nodded to the small but ornately framed picture of the founder of SHIELD sitting on their mantle. He started to feel bad. Maybe he’d underestimated her.

“Well, I don’t have to go in today. I was just going to be writing up some results, anyway, and you know I hate that bit.”

Her mouth opened and her eyes narrowed. “You made me swear on Peggy for no reason?”

He shrugged, ignoring her indignant look. “Always good to know where your loyalties lie, Simmons.” He pushed off from the counter, heading to his room for his laptop and calling out over his shoulder as he walked. “Meet you on the couch in five minutes!”

  


A week and a half later, they watched the credits roll on the third episode of the final half-season, eyes riveted to the screen.

“What. The hell. Was that?”

“I think you’ve said that after every single episode,” noted Jemma, though she sounded a little breathless. “Next episode?”

Fitz leaned over to his laptop, turning over his shoulder to smirk at her. “Don’t you mean ‘next episode, bitch’?” She wrinkled her nose at him, and as ever, he pushed all thoughts of how adorable it was to the back of his mind.

“Ugh, Fitz. Language.”

“What? Jesse can say it but I can’t?” She just shook her head, and he sighed. “Okay, okay.” He turned back to lean over the arm of the couch to where his laptop sat on the end table. His eyes widened. “Nooo…”

“What is it?

“No, no, no…”

“Fitz?” She scooted closer to him on the couch, leaning around his body to see what he was looking at-- and he could tell exactly when she did. “We’re caught up?” Her voice was tight, frantic. He nodded dumbly. “We have to wait a full _week_ to find out what happens next?”

“I must have… miscounted. I thought we had at least one more.”

“No, no, this can’t be right.” She stood up, started pacing around their small living room, gesturing wildly. “There’s got to be more.” She stopped short, whirling around and pointing at him. “Check your torrent site again.”

“My torrent site’s not the issue!”

“Well, obviously, it is. There’s got to be another episode. We can’t wait a week.”

He sighed. “We have to.” Just until Sunday. They could make it, couldn’t they?

She shook her head, though, crossing her arms across her middle. “No. I can’t. I have to know what happens! Spoilers, we can look up spoilers, can’t we?”

Fitz stood to face her and gently placed a hand on either one of her shoulders. “Simmons. Have a seat.” She did, allowing him to guide her to the couch, a worried look on her face. She scratched idly at her arm, fidgeting in her seat. He looked down at her gravely. “Simmons? I think you’re addicted to _Breaking Bad_.”

  


To Fitz’s relief, they did survive, thanks in part to his ability to distract her with torrented episodes of British shows that had not yet aired in the States. The penultimate episode came on the night before they moved out of their apartment onto the plane that would soon be their home. They watched it in their empty living room, huddled together on the floor with Fitz’s laptop balanced on his knees, then stayed up half the night talking-- first about the episode, then as the sky out the curtainless windows grew darker and Jemma’s head dropped onto Fitz’s shoulder, about what might await them in the morning.

The finale was watched huddled together again, this time on the bed in Fitz’s new bunk. Skye was able to hack into an HD livestream for them-- he liked her already-- and the picture was clear and crisp even as the plane flew across unknown airspace.

Fitz was sluggish the next day in the lab-- unsurprisingly, they’d been up late deconstructing Walter White’s comeuppance, or possibly lack thereof. The task Agent Coulson had assigned him should have taken him less than 15 minutes, but had stretched to almost 30. (To be fair, he thought to himself, it would have taken anyone else the better part of the morning.) Nonetheless, when he showed Coulson the schematics on the holotable, the man looked impressed.

“This is exactly what I was looking for, Agent Fitz,” he said, eyes still glued to the rotating display. “I wasn’t sure it was even theoretically possible. How’d you manage it?”

Fitz’s eyes brightened, feeling a little boost of energy from Coulson’s praise. He was beginning to think being on this team might have its merits. He felt like he could be of use here. “It’s science!” he exclaimed. “Bit--”

“Language!” Jemma shot him a look from her spot a few feet away. He deflated, just a bit, just for a moment, before shrugging and giving her a sleepy, cocky grin.

"Biatch.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Want to chat on Tumblr? I'm unbreakablejemmasimmons over there!


End file.
